Bear Cubs, Fathers and Walking on Water

The context: My wife BJ and I recently learned of a common childhood experience.  We are newlyweds so our past is still unfolding to each other.  In response to one of our past delving “questions of the day” we both told stories involving bear cubs and our fathers.

  BJ’s story: BJ and her family were vacationing in Yellowstone; like most tourists they stopped to “visit” the bears.  While they captured the moment for posterity with their Brownie Hawkeye, a bear cub wandered unnoticed to the open trunk of their car. 

  A bit of background:  BJ, like most six year-old girls, had a doll with which she seldom parted.  It was her baby, and she clutched it under her arm wherever she went.  However, for a reason beyond her memory, that day she left in the fore mentioned trunk.  You know what happened.

  The crisis: The bear cub got the doll and proceeded to leave with it.  The howl went up, “My doll; the bear has my doll.”  The frenzy began.  Dad rushed in to rescue the doll.  How he wrangled it loose from the bear was lost in the emotions of the moment.  What BJ cared about and remembers is she got the doll back and her father’s hero status remained intact.

  Michael’s story (paraphrased from my brother’s tale):  In the 1940s and 50s, growing up in a small mountain community offered few diversions beside the local theaters, sports, and field and stream activities.  Like many young boys, Mike and I drifted into fishing.  After a few forays to the local streams with friends, Dad decided he needed to get involved.   

  Dad’s preparation: Dad never did anything in a small way so he equipped himself with the latest fishing equipment.  After an hour of back yard practice, Dad pronounced himself an angler and planned a fishing trip to the beaver dams on Black Bear Creek.

  The adventure: Wading is a common trout fishing technique, and Dad, never one to throw convention to the winds, was across the pond up to his waist intent on capturing at least one unsuspecting fish.  The morning was quiet until the bear cubs arrived.  Mike thought they were cute and headed right for them.  Dad thought otherwise knowing bear cubs meant bear mama.  He ordered us to the car and raced across the pond toward Mike, who continued toward the cubs.  He snatched Mike and saved him from potential disaster. That was when I learned my father walked on water.  Although I think that was Dad’s last fishing trip, he did embellish our religious convictions.

   The lesson: It is amazing how many times our fathers come to our rescue; or is it?  They do what fathers do to keep us safe.  I seem to offer my Father countless opportunities to save me, and He always seems to be available to snatch me up from disaster.  Given I already know He can walk on water, there should be a lesson in that for me.  You would think I would learn not to be surprised.